


bathtime

by connabeth



Series: tumblr prompts [5]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Future Fic, Married Couple, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, percababies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connabeth/pseuds/connabeth
Summary: Percy and Annabeth’s baby proves he’s more his father’s son than they initially thought.orsome domestic fluff involving a out-of-control baby, a mildly guilty Percy, and an endeared but annoyed Annabethbased on the prompts:“for starters, that’s impossible.”“i swear i didn’t do it”
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: tumblr prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838725
Comments: 23
Kudos: 275





	bathtime

Percy smiled, endeared, as he watched his son giggle and play with the water in the bathtub, droplets splashing up and kissing the skin of his rounded cheeks, as he flinched and giggled even more. His dark curls were wet and stuck to his forehead, soap suds covering his tiny, chubby body. His wide grey eyes stared at his dad in interest as the man gently washed the soap and shampoo off of him.

Their son _loved_ being in the water. Put him in the bath or in a pool, and he was a happy gurgling little bundle of flailing limbs and flushed cheeks. Annabeth had fondly rolled her eyes when they had discovered this, calling him his “father’s son.” But their baby was ridiculously attached to Annabeth, following his mom wherever she went, crawling right behind her and clinging to her pant leg. When Percy pointed this out, she’d say it only further proved her point. Percy was the biggest mama’s boy there was. And Annabeth’s biggest fan. Their son was no different.

Percy rinsed his son off with some more water, while the little boy sat happily in the bathtub splashing and shrieking. Gods, he was _so adorable,_ Percy resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks. Those big gray eyes of his looked exactly like his mother’s, shining with the same curiosity, just as endearing.

He couldn’t help but reach over and gently tickle the boy’s chubby little frame. Percy watched, eyes dancing with mirth, as his son shrieked and flapped his arms. Percy laughed along with him, taking delight in his adorable reaction. What he didn’t notice was the still water of the bathtub slowly swirling and rippling, small waves rocking back and forth between each end.

Percy continued playing around with his son, paying no mind to the water violently sloshing around in the tub. Maybe he was too desensitized to rough waters to notice. He felt a tingling sensation growing in his gut, but ignored the feeling in favor of getting that high-pitched laugh out of his son. Percy reached down to tickle at a particularly sensitive spot at the bottom of his feet, waiting for the responding laughter.

And he got it. But not without a wall of water flying out of the bathtub, drenching not only himself but the tile around him. The faucet momentarily began gushing out more water, sending the liquid spraying outside the tub.

Fuck.

 _He_ hadn’t done that had he? Percy had always been pretty in tune with his powers since he started training at camp. He’d never lost control like this since he was a teenager. The faucet had dripped to a stop. He turned to look at his son with wide eyes, alarm apparent on his face. His baby stared innocently back up at him, but the little water still left in the tub rippled in a deliberate pattern around his form.

Fuck.

He knew of some Roman legacies that inherited godly powers, but never to this extent. His son was only almost _seven months old_. And he just blew up a bathtub. He supposed those were the consequences of the two most powerful demigods of their generation having a child together. He had a feeling their kid would grow up to be pretty powerful, but seeing a display of hydrokinesis this early was startling, and quite frankly, a little terrifying. Percy craned his neck around, surveying the damage to the bathroom. No spot was spared. There was almost an inch of water covering the entirety of the bathroom floor. Percy squirmed, digging his toes into the sopping mat beneath his feet, wincing at the resounding _squelch._

_Fuck._

“Percy!” he heard Annabeth shout from the other room. “Why is there water leaking out of the bathroom?”

Percy began sweating, trying to formulate a coherent response that wouldn’t send her into panic mode.

“Percy?” she called again, at his silence, dragging out the last syllable. He could hear her footsteps approaching the bathroom, and cringed in anticipation.

He heard the door open and pivoted to see her face. Her expression morphed from curiosity and concern into one of shock, then confusion, and then anger, as she took in the mess in front of her.

“Percy...what the _hell_ is this?” she asked, her voice deadly calm. The man in question swallowed and forced himself to look her in the eye.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to about explaining that it wasn’t him, but he cowered under her fierce gaze and blurted the first thing that came to mind. 

“Turns out my sperm is pretty strong,” he weakly laughed. 

Annabeth did not laugh. Her eyes lingered on the water seeping into the tile. “ _What?_ ” she scowled, arms crossing over each other.

“I swear I didn’t do it! It was our son!” he defended, raising his arms in surrender.

“Really, Percy? Blaming our barely seven month old baby? I mean, just look at him.” Her gaze softened as they landed on her child, sitting still in the tub, blissfully unaware of what he did.

Percy shot his son a withering glance. “Don’t go acting so innocent now, mister. Or I’ll show you some real water powers.” His baby stared back blankly.

“ _Percy!_ ”

“Sorry, sorry. But I swear on the Styx it was him!”

“For starters, that’s impossible. He’s not even a _child_ ,” she gestured to their wide-eyed infant. “And don’t go swearing on the Styx over nothing.”

“Well it seems like both our genes combined gave him a little boost in the power department. Besides, you know I don’t lose control like this.”

Annabeth was silent for a moment, her face still skeptical. She took in his earnest expression and conceded, sighing.

“This is still all your fault, you know.”

“I didn’t _ask_ for my powers.”

“All I’m hearing is that your Poseidon genes ruined my tiles. You better clean this up.”

“I will, I will,” he reassured, raising his arm and summoning the water on the tiles back into the tub. The tiles were still damp, so he touched his fingers to the ground to dry them. “There. Done. See?”

Annabeth arched a perfect eyebrow. “There better not be any lasting water damage.”

“If there is, I’ll do whatever you want me to for an entire day.”

“That’s a dangerous bargain,” she warned.

“What more could you possibly do to me you haven’t done already?” He did not appreciate the wicked little smile he got in response.

He heaved a sigh, and picked his babbling son out of the bathtub, gently drying him. “Look at what you’ve done, you little troublemaker. You owe me big time.”

Annabeth’s eyes transformed from a steely gray into a softer, gentler kind, at the domestic scene in front of her, like a raincloud in a drizzle. Gods, how she loved her two boys. As exhausting as they could be.

She rolled her eyes, fighting down a smile, and pushed off the wall she was leaning on. She bent down and picked her son up from Percy’s arms and led them both to the bedroom to get him dressed.

Annabeth reached into he baby drawer for a pair of soft cotton pajamas, but Percy stopped her.

“Wait! Remember how the package finally came in the mail the other day?”

Annabeth fondly rolled her eyes with a knowing smile, and gestured for her husband to go retrieve it. As she was rubbing lotion into the soft skin of the infant’s arms, Percy reentered the bedroom holding a medium sized cardboard Amazon box. He set the package down on the bed and excitedly tore at the tape, ripping the cardboard open. Annabeth was about to reprimand him for getting pieces of tape everywhere, but she couldn’t bring herself to, at the childlike excitement on his face.

Percy pulled a shark onesie out of a plastic bag, grinning as he thrust it into her face to show her.

“Ok, yeah he is definitely going to look _so_ cute in that,” she agreed.

“He always looks cute. He’s your son,” he replied, cheekily.

“Cool it, Romeo.” She plucked the onesie out of his hands and maneuvered their baby into it with his assistance.

“ _Oh my gods_.” Nothing could’ve prepared for how purely _adorable_ their son looked in that shark onesie.

“You’re right, he really is my son.”

Percy laughed, picking their kid up off the bed. “Look at you. I bet Grandpa’s gonna be scared of you now, huh?”

Their son gurgled happily in response, content in his little shark get-up, letting out a string of nonsensical babbles.

They fawned over him for a few minutes, making sure to get in some good pictures for the photo albums. Percy finally understood what his mom felt like when she was raising him. The urge to document everything was overwhelming.

The infant in the shark onesie began babbling again, getting his parents’ attention. “Mm...nan...nana.”

“What’s that? _Dada_. Say _dada_. Come on, you’re almost there.”

“Percy, that’s not even close to what he’s saying. _Mama_ , baby, say _mama. Ma-ma_ ,” Annabeth carefully sounded the syllables out, trying to get a response.

“Na-na!” he squealed. “Nanab—nanab—”

“What? What’s he trying to say? Banana?” Percy scrunched his nose. Annabeth shrugged, just as lost as he was.

“Nanabet!” he squeaked, happily, not quite getting the ‘th’ sound out. Annabeth blinked.

“Did our son just try to call me by my first name?”

Percy let out a chuckle, clutching his stomach. He couldn’t even find it within himself to be disappointed he didn’t say some variation of “dad.”

“Nanabeth. That’s a good one. Should I call you that from now on?”

Annabeth swatted his arm. “You’ve done enough. Don’t be jealous he didn’t say _dada_ first.”

“I’m not, I’m not, trust me.” At Annabeth’s pointed look, he relented. “Okay maybe a little, but I gotta say that was better than I was expecting. I must really say your name a lot around him, huh.”

“Well, duh. He’s our son.”

“You figure he’ll say Percy soon?”

“I hope not. Prissy or nothing. I’ll make sure I exclusively call you Prissy around him from now on.”

“Sure thing, Nanabeth.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Careful, if you keep saying that, it might be the next word out of his mouth.”

“Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised. We both curse like sailors.”

“It’s the New Yorker in me.”

“And the temperament,” Annabeth added, helpfully.

“Says you,” he said, shoving her shoulder gently, then pulled her in for a kiss on top of her blonde curls, their fruity scent filling his nostrils. He kept his arms secured around the two of them, a surge of warmth and affection coursing through his body. He really didn’t want to move, ever. Eventually, their son started squirming, so they broke the embrace.

“Ugh, I think he’s hungry. He really is your spawn.”

“Oh, so now he’s _my_ spawn.”

“He is when he’s blowing up bathtubs and being perpetually hungry.”

“Fair.”

They strolled into the family room, settling comfortably onto the couch, and Percy arranged the pillows in a way that would support Annabeth’s back. He watched them quietly, TV running on low volume in the background, the fluorescent lights dancing across her skin and their son calmly nursed. He wouldn’t trade the two of them for the world. Every now and then, he would look at them, disbelieving, surprised he ever got a chance to have the little family of his own he’d always wanted, a little family with the woman of his dreams.

His eyes lingered on the way Annabeth’s golden curls were illuminated by the light streaming through the windows, making them glow like a halo, on the way she looked down at their little creation as he happily fed from his mother, her expression so sweetly domestic and tender, on the way her fingers gently brushed the soft baby hairs off their son’s forehead and traced the lines of his eyebrows. When he looked at them, he saw hope. He saw warmth. He saw his future. He saw a love so intense and grounding, it left a pleasant buzz pulsing through his veins. He saw home. 

Annabeth glanced up at him, as if sending his stare. “What?” she asked, absentmindedly, cradling their child in his arms.

“Nothing, baby. Just love you is all,” he replied, pulling his bare torso closer to hers, pressing a whisper of a kiss at the nape of her neck, his warm breath puffing into her ear. She twisted her neck briefly to meet his lips with hers, all adoring and saccharine. Annabeth turned back to focus on the child in her arms and Percy rested his head gently against hers, and she leaned back into his embrace. The day slowly bled into nightfall, pinks and oranges and reds giving away to the tranquil darkness, crickets chirping in the grass and moon shining distantly in the sky. But he paid no mind to any of it. He had his whole world in his arms.


End file.
